Eva Corleone Part One
by oldshowaddict2015
Summary: I'm the only woman in my father's business. My brother, Michael, wants nothing to do with it. Not until my father gets shot. That was when everything practically went to hell. That's what changed Michael. That's what made him into the hardass he is today. Join Eva Corleone as she deals with her family during the first installment of the Godfather. Read/Review. No flames. Rated: M
1. Just Another Day On The Job

_A/N: I do not own _The Godfather. _I am only a fan who would like to write a fanfiction. The only things I own in this story are Eva, Chester, Aimee, and Jacob._

Chapter One

Most women in my family don't like to interfere in the family business. Me? I'm not like most women. The family I was born into proved that outright, but the choices of my life made me even more different. Most women wouldn't dare to do what I do. They'd find it disgusting or degrading. No, I'm not talking about being a hooker or some other kind of whore. What I'm talking about... Well... You'll find out.

I have four brothers. My oldest is Santino, though everyone just calls him Sonny. I'd say he was the... Very good looking out of all of us. The hunk of the family, so to speak. He had brown hair that, as long as I can remember, had always been curly. His eyes matched the color of his hair.  
>Sonny was a good brother. But he had a temper. This temper, I fear, could be the death of him if he wasn't careful. He's very respected in the business, and feared. As he should be. If people didn't fear him, what with his flaring temper and the fact that he had killed people, they'd be insane. But he does have a softer side. I know that's hard to believe, but he really does. When he was eleven, he brought in this boy named Tom Hagen. Tom was homeless. He had no family, nowhere to go. So, what did we do? We took him in. He also has a wife and four children, but... He still has many mistresses.<p>

Tommy Hagen. While not being Italian like the rest of us (in fact, he's of German-Irish decent) he's still family, and still like a big brother to me. You could tell he wasn't one of us, biologically speaking. His hair was a dirty blonde and he had blue eyes. Unlike Sonny, Tom was mild-mannered and soft spoken. He was more of the voice of reason. If you didn't listen to Tom, then you were pretty much fucked. He was a lawyer and the only person we trusted to talk to people outside of the family and do business with them. He spoke fluent Sicilian and could probably fool anyone if they both spoke Sicilian on the phone.

Then there was Frederico (or, as I like to call him, Fredo). He was the second born son to my parents. Not necessarily part of our family business, he runs our unimportant business that we have on the side. He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer—in fact, that's why father gave him that job. That and the fact that he's also very weak. But, even though he was all of that, he was also the most obedient and dutiful out of all of us. His hair was dark brown to black and thinning a little on the top. His eyes were brown as well, and he had a slight mustache. He wasn't married, not yet, but I'm sure he hoped to be.

Then, there was Michael. Young Michael who longed to have nothing to do with the family business. He joined the Marines and fought in World War Two. Now that it's over, however, he should be home soon. Michael longed for a more... Americanized kind of life. Peaceful. A wife and three kids with a white picket fence and a dog. He was awarded the Navy Cross for bravery, and was even in LIFE magazine. He was actually discharged from the Marines to recover from a disabling wound (when really, my father had a part in his release). Michael, also, was a very good looking man. His hair was black and he had light brown eyes. From what I knew, he was single, but I wouldn't doubt that he had a girl with him anytime soon.

Then there's my sister, Connie (or, if you want to know her full name, Constanzia). Not much to tell about her except for the fact that she's getting married—today, in fact. Her hair was to her shoulders, dark brown, and her eyes matched the color. She was marrying this guy named Carlo Rizzi. I'm not sure if I trusted him or not, but time will tell, as it always does.

And then... There was me. Little Eva Corleone, the baby of the family. The one who, for about twelve years, relied on her older brothers Sonny and Tom to fight her fights for her. It wasn't until I was thirteen that I got into my first fist fight and won. After the fight was over, I saw Sonny and Tom standing at the end of the sidewalk, looking like they had seen a ghost. I suppose they didn't expect me to fight as well as I had, but from that point on, Sonny told me that since I finally knew how to fight, I was on my own.  
>When I joined the family business (and believe you me, I was one of the low guys on the totem pole at first) I made my way up to the top with my brothers under a span of four years. I proved myself worthy, and for that I was rewarded. I never wanted to be a housewife; I never wanted to settle down. I loved what I did. I loved being alone, not having to worry about a husband or kids. If I died, then the only people affected would be my parents, siblings, and friendsco-workers. No man to make a widower, no children to make motherless.  
>If you asked me, I'm sure my figure was one of the things that did draw men to me. A simple hourglass that, in whatever I wore, always made itself seen. I was one of the lucky ones. I had a nice set of twins up top and, not to mention, an ass to die for. My hair was raven black and long, down to the middle of my back. My eyes were dark brown, and peered out from under my bangs with judgment, pity, love or hate. There was no in between with those four. My face was slender, almost elven like in appearance, and men were always hitting on me. It was annoying at times, but I learned to live with it.<p>

Like I said before, today was Connie's wedding day. But, instead of being outside with the family and celebrating, I was inside with my father and brothers, working.

My father, Vito Corleone, sat at his desk, the family cat in his hands. His hair was thick on his head, though receding and grey. His eyes were like my own and my brothers. My father had this... Sophisticated air about him. He was respected. You did what he said the minute he told you to do it, no questions asked. He came over to America from Sicily in 1901 when he was just nine years old, no mother, no father, and no brother. They had all been killed by the local Mafia boss Don Ciccio. I remember him telling me his mother had pleaded that he not be killed, and when they refused, she attempted to kill Don Ciccio _and _his men. This led to her being shot and my father having a bounty on his head. Many years later he returned to Sicily and killed Don Ciccio for revenge. By this time the man was so blind that he really did not see it coming.  
>My father's voice was soft and quiet, but there was always this menacing tone underneath it and if you angered him enough, it would make itself heard. He had a pencil thin moustache, also greying like his hair.<p>

"I believe in America." The man in front of him, Amerigo Bonasera, said. "America has made my fortune. And I raised my daughter in the American fashion. I gave her freedom, but I taught her never to dishonor her family. She found a boyfriend, not an Italian. She went to the movies with him. She stayed out late. I didn't protest. Two months ago, he took her for a drive with another boyfriend. They made her drink whiskey and then...they tried to advantage of her." this man was about to cry once again. I'm sure it hurt, having to hear about what happened to your child. I looked over at Sonny, who merely raised his eyebrows at me. I turned back to man who held back his tears. "She resisted. She kept her honor. So they beat her like an animal. When I went to the hospital, her nose was broken, her jaw was shattered, held together by wire." He began to cry. "She couldn't even weep because of the pain. But I wept. Why did I weep? She was the light of my life. Beautiful girl. Now she will never be beautiful again." He cried a little more. My father made a simple gesture with his hand and Sonny gave the man a small glass of something to drink. "Sorry." Amerigo took a sip and then held the glass in his hands. "I... I went to the police. Like a good American. These two boys were brought to trial. The judge sentenced them to three years in prison, but suspended the sentence." I looked at my brothers. Tom shook his head slightly while Sonny's face was blank. I'm sure he didn't want to show emotion. "Suspended the sentence! They went free _that very day_! I stood in the courtroom like a fool. And those two bastards..." the man pointed at the corner as if those two men were really there. "They _smiled _at me! Then I said to my wife, "For justice, we must go to Don Corleone"."

"Why did you go to the police?" My father asked him. "Why didn't you come to me first?"

"What do you want of me? Tell me anything but do what I beg you to do."

"What is that?" Amerigo stood, placing his glass on the desk and walking over to my father. He leaned into his ear for a moment and whispered something in his ear before returning to where his seat was, but he didn't sit back down. My father sat there I silence, thinking this over. He then looked at the man and shook his head. "That I cannot do."

"I'll give you anything you ask." He leaned forward.

"We've known each other many years, but this is the first time you ever came to me for help. I can't remember the last time you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee. Even though my wife is godmother to your only child. But let's be frank here. You never wanted my friendship. And you were afraid to be in my debt."

"I didn't want to get into trouble."

"I understand. You found paradise in America. You had a good trade, made a good living, the police protected you, and there were courts of law. You didn't need a friend like me. But... Now you come to me and say, "Don Corleone, give me justice!" But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me Godfather. Instead, you come into my house on the day my daughter's getting married, and you ask me to murder for money."

"I ask you for justice..." there was a pleading tone in this man's voice now.

"That is not justice; your daughter is still alive." My father shook his head.

"Let them suffer, then, as she suffers." The man began to cry again. "How much shall I pay you?"

My father stared at him for a second before placing the cat on the desk, standing, and walking over to the window.

"Bonasera, Bonasera." He started. "What have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully?" he started to walk over to him. "If you'd come to me in friendship, then the scum that ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. And if, by chance, an honest man like yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. And then they would fear you." He pointed his finger at him.

"Be my friend?" Amerigo asked. Sonny walked over to the window and stood there as Tom had walked to the other side of the room. Me, I made myself stay put. "Godfather?" my father held out his hand and Amerigo kissed it.

"Good." Father placed an arm around the other man's shoulders. "Someday, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service." They began to walk towards the door. "But until that day, accept this justice as a gift on my daughter's wedding day."

Amerigo beamed. "_Gràzie, _Godfather."

"_Prego_."

And with that, Amerigo left. Tom stood there next to my father and shut the door. For a moment, my father scratched his head.

"Give this to... Clemenza." He said. "I want reliable people, people who aren't going to get carried away. We're not murderers, in spite of what this... Undertaker says." He smelled the small rose on his tuxedo.


	2. Connie's Wedding

Chapter Two

About thirty minutes to an hour later, the whole family stood outside, taking a picture with Connie and her new husband. But, there was one person missing.

"Where's Michael?" Father looked over at Sonny.

"Don't worry; he said he'd be here." Sonny shrugged. My father shook his head.

"We're not taking the picture without Michael." He walked away from us and to the photographer, speaking in Italian. The photographer nodded and walked off. Tom walked over to us.

"What's the matter?" he looked confused.

"It's Michael." Sonny said, walking off with his wife and kids.

"Yeah, he's not here yet." I added. Tom shook his head. I walked off over to the concession stand and got something to drink. I was never a party person—in fact; I was more of a wallflower. At any school dance, I never went with a date. I always stood against the wall. Except senior prom. No one knew, but Michael was the one who took me. He made get out and dance and have a good time. _"It's your prom!" _he had said. _"Just relax and have fun." _

"Hi there." A voice with a Southern type drawl said next to me. Oh boy, here we go. I looked over and saw a man, probably early to mid-twenties, standing next to me. His hair was blonde and his eyes were bright green. He had a nice tan, however, and seemed to be muscular underneath his nice suit.

"Hi. I suppose you're a friend of the groom?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Well... if you count a friend of a friend of a friend, well then yes." He smiled, and I swear to you he had the whitest teeth I had ever seen. "I only came here because my brother wanted me here. My brother is a good friend to the friend of the groom."

"And because of that, the two of you got in. I see." I nodded my head.

"Exactly." He winked at me and took my hand. "My name is Chester Nicolson. Pleasure to meet you." He kissed my hand. I blushed a little.

"Eva Corleone." I smiled. "Sister of the bride."

"Sister? Why aren't you a bridesmaid?"

_Well first off, I wouldn't be caught dead in pink_, I thought to myself. "I didn't want to be, and Connie didn't push it. She didn't really even ask." I shrugged. Wasn't a big deal. My mint green dress began to blow in the slight breeze, and I thanked my lucky stars again that I wasn't wearing a bridesmaid's gown.

"Now see, where _I _come from, we always have relatives in the weddin' party first. Then friends."

"Yeah, well..." I shrugged. "It's not a big deal." I looked him over. "Where are you from, anyway?"

"Well, I'm originally from Atlanta. But I came up here with my brother about two years ago, he got a job and so I came with him. And, I reckoned, that my art could see."

"Art?" Alright. Now this Chester was getting interesting.

"I draw." He shrugged. "Nothin' to it, really."

"Easy for you to say." I laughed a little. "I've got some imagination, but when it comes to drawing count me _out_." I smiled.

"Well, how about I teach you sometime?" Chester raised an eyebrow.

"You're not just saying that, are you?" the judgment started to show through my eyes, though I tried my best to hide it.

"No ma'am."

"Chester! Hey, Chester!" a yell came from behind me. I turned around. There stood a man with blonde hair, but the same green eyes as Chester.

"What?" Chester raised his voice.

"Come here a second, I gotta show you something." The man waved him over.

"Well," Chester sighed and looked at me. "The brother calls." He raised my hand up to his lips and kissed it. "May I call on you sometime?"

"Anytime." I smiled. "Been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Nicolson."

"The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Corleone." He grinned and walked over to his brother. I grinned, blushing a little. I then turned and started to walk away, but stopped, seeing Fredo there. He was smirking, knowing he made me jump a little.

"And who was that?" he kept the smirk on his face.

"Clark Gable, who do you think?" I raised an eyebrow and walked over to a table.

"Very funny, little sister. But you still didn't answer my question."

"He's a guy." I said. "And that's all you'll be getting out of me. Now go on. You know I like to be alone."

"Get out on the dancefloor."

"No..." I groaned. There was a camera flash and I blinked. "I hate cameras..." I muttered.

"Come on. Just one dance." Fredo started to drag me to the dancefloor.

"No..! Fredo!" I groaned again. Ultimately, Fredo dragged me out to the dancefloor and the two of us began to dance.

"Eva, I see you've finally come to join everyone else on the dancefloor." My father teased me.

"Blame Fredo." I glared at my brother.

"Good work, Fredo." Father smiled at him, and kept dancing with my mother. I looked at Fredo.

"Happy? You got father's praise." I teased.

"Oh yeah. I'm ecstatic." He smirked. The song ended and I clapped along with the rest of the people.

"Okay. Now can I go to the table, get something to eat, huh?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Go ahead, be my guest."

"Thank you." I walked off the dancefloor and over to a table. I looked out at the crowd, sitting alone. Off to the distance, Luca Brasi was going over and over what he would say to my father. I'm sure it was some kind of thank you.

"Michael!" I heard. Out of the house walked Tom and he made his way over to the table that Michael was at. Mike stood, looking ever so dashing in his Marines uniform, and they hugged. "You look terrific!"

Michael beamed. "My brother, Tom Hagen. Miss Kay Adams."

The woman in the red and white polka dotted dress shook Tom's hand before Tom turned back to my brother, said something to him and then left not too long after, Luca Brasi following him. I cleared my throat a little and got up, trying to make it look like I hadn't seen Michael or Miss Kay Adams as I walked by.

"Well, well, well." I heard Michael's voice. "If it isn't the Queen of the Wallflowers herself."

I turned and placed a hand on my chest, much like a film star. "Who, me?" I smiled my Million Dollar Smile.

"No, Vivien Leigh." Michael smirked and stood. I grinned and hugged him.

"Michael, it's been so long!" I held him. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, sis. Here," he pulled away but kept his arm around my shoulders. "Eva Corleone, this is a friend of mine, Kay Adams."

"Hello." Kay smiled and held her hand out.

"Hi." I shook her hand.

"You're not the one that got married today are you?" Kay furrowed her eyebrows as our hands went back to our sides.

"Oh, no." I laughed and shook my head.

"No, no. That's Connie." Michael explained. "No, I don't think Eva ever will get married."

"Yeah. I'm that one girl." I shrugged.

"Why not?" Kay flicked the ashes off her cigarette.

"Well... I'm not the marrying type." I put my arm around my brother. "And this guy... He's nuts, Kay."

"C'mon, Eva—" Michael tried not to smile.

"You better keep an eye on him." I winked.

"Oh, I will." Kay nodded her head slowly and winked back. I smiled at Michael and patted his back.

"I'll get going now. Mike, you two play nice. I'm gonna go... I don't know, take a walk or something." I shrugged and started to leave.

"Hey Eva!" Michael called after me. I turned and looked at him. "Don't forget, the two of us need to dance later. You owe me one!"

"Yeah, yeah..." I waved my hand at him and walked off. I stayed outside the crowd, and saw Chester Nicolson in the crowd, smiling at my mother's singing. He looked over at me and winked. I blushed and waved shyly.

So no guy has made me this shy since high school, but I'm sure it was nothing. It had to be. I wasn't that type of girl.


End file.
